Tom arrived with a bag of fresh groceries, three steaks, and some store bought pie for desert. He argued briefly with Kristen, but eventually got her to agree to surrender her kitchen to the two men. He peeled vegetables, surprisingly, saving a goodly portion, and got them into pots on the stove. I dug out a large iron frying pan and prepared it for the steaks

"Do you have any garlic, Kris?" I called.

"Cupboard to the right over the fridge, there's some powder. Are you sure I can't help?"

"Nope, we're good. Where do you keep your potato masher?" Tom asked.

"Third drawer down. Don't forget to put some butter in."

"We've got this. You just relax."

Tom turned to me, "Butter? How much?"

"I don't know, a teaspoon?"

"Where's a teaspoon? What's a teaspoon?"

Thirty minutes later we presented the three fried steaks, with hungry man servings of vegetables, wine and packaged dinner rolls.

"Well done, gentlemen." Kristen raised her wine glass.

"They were supposed to be medium," I said, disappointed.

"Not the steak, the effort." She rolled her eyes and set her glass down. I hope my kitchen doesn't look like a war zone."

"Don't worry, this is a full service evening . . ." My words faltered, and I avoided her look. "I mean, we'll clean up everything, you don't have to worry."

Kristen's face flushed, but she covered it, turning to Tom, and asking, "So what is this plan you have, speaking of worry?" Then she forked in a mouthful of potato. 

"I have been in touch with a couple of friends at the agency and the Marshals, and I advised them of our situation, and my thoughts on a plan of action. They are on board as backup - and I trust all of these guys with my life."

"The plan, Tom." She urged, testing the steak and making a humming sound.

"We should go on the offence. These two that we know of, who have been watching us, I believe are here to- to see that we don't make any more trouble." He didn't look at her as he spoke.

She stopped eating and stared at me. "Is he saying they want to kill us?"

I shrugged, looking helplessly to Tom.

"Miss Howard, I didn't mean we would physically engage them when I said offensive. I meant, we would take some measures to draw them out, and--"

"Bait, is what you mean, Right? Bait for men who want to kill us?"

"I think we need to slow down here and examine the whole idea. Bait is- well a bit dramatic . . . Tom, wouldn't you say?"

"No. She's right. But it's safer than splitting up every night and risk being alone, and vulnerable."

"This is for me, isn't it? Because I'm a woman and not a policeman?"

"A citizen," I said. "Not a woman. Gender isn't a question, it's the fact that we," I flipped a thumb between Tom and me, "because we're in law enforcement, make it a bit more dangerous for them."

Kristen ate some more steak and chewed thoughtfully. "How would you do this?"

"Are you on board, Miss Howard?"

"Tell me how it will work."

I knew right then she was gearing up her analytical mind to view Tom's plan for plausibility. Odd she couldn't use it for her own personal dilemma. Maybe that's the difference; she can handle other people's problems but not her own.

"Quite simply, we wait until we know they are watching, then we make it look like we are on the run. Suitcases or bags. We hurry into a car and take off to a place I can have set up with my other agents, and we round them up when they follow."

"This doesn't sound like a very professional plan."

"I simplified it for expediency."

"This would be you and Tom," I chimed in, "because I'm a local cop they would know my people would be alerted."

"But they were watching you too." She said.

"True, but you raised the flag originally, and we both feel you're the main target."

The rest of the meal passed with a few more basic questions, mostly to assure Kristen we knew what we were doing. I hoped. She started to clear the table, and I sat her down while Tom took over.

"I would rather it be me going with you, Kris, but Tom's right about my people. Patrol cars all over the place randomly. They wouldn't risk it. But with me here to keep an eye on my cops, they'd be free to chase after you."

"If I was a client of mine I wouldn't buy this strategy."

"Why? Tell me."

"What if they catch us before we get to Tom's - whatever it is?"

"They won't." Tom came back for more dishes. "You can trust me on that."

I exchanged 'do we have a better choice' eye signals with Kris, and she nodded.

"Okay, Tom. Anything to end this." She spread her hands in acceptance.

I patted her arm and stood up to help Tom. I wasn't going to say that it might not be the end, just the removal of a couple of pieces.

******

The car rolled to a halt one lot down, headlights off, and the two occupants cased the target's house.

"The cop's here again, that's his car. Martin said, annoyed. "Turn on the mic, see if we can get anything."

Horvat put on the headset, turned on the microphone and aimed it at the house. The range, with little ambient noise, was plenty close to hear inside the house. Horvat messed with some filters and adjusted the headset.

"Lotta kitchen noise. Wait, sounds like - yeah, the FBI guy is there too."

"Damn!" Martin was pissed. "What the hell, are they doing, playing house?"

"Quiet, they're talking about us."

"Us?"

"Something about a team - ah, they think we've got teams watching them. The different vehicles."

"Good, maybe that's why they're getting together all the time - safety in numbers. Let me listen, and you go and stick that tracker on the car."

Martin accepted the headphones and squinched up his face in concentration.

"Christ, they're having pie and talking like it's a food show."

"This is a waste of time, I still say we should take them all out."

"No way. The FBI is off limits. Get that tracker on their car, Horvat."

******

Tom spun his hand, indicating Kristen and I should keep talking. He knelt by the living room window in the dark watching the car parked next door. The window was down, and there was a dull reflection from the street light off something sticking out. He moved back into the dining room, asking about the pie, while signalling that the men outside were listening.

"Do you think they heard what we talked about?" Kristen whispered softly into her hand.

Tom shrugged. He leaned closer, beckoning me over as well. "This is a perfect chance. We should go now."

"You want ice cream with that second piece," I said, waving him out to the kitchen. I turned on the tap and started banging dishes around, at the same time as I questioned his idea.

"I can be on the phone to my guys and have them in place in less than two hours." He said, close to my ear.

"What about her? She hasn't had any time to consider--"

"She agreed, remember?"

"Does it take two of you to dig out ice cream?" Kristen came to the kitchen, arms out questioningly.

Tom gave her a hurried sketch of what they would do, and without letting her catch a breath, he shoved her toward the bedroom, still whispering.

"Grab a suitcase - you do have one?" She nodded. "Good. Got a backpack or anything like that?" Again, she nodded, opening her closet and dragging out the items.

"What should I pack?"

"Nothing. Just make them look heavy when we leave."

While Tom was hushed on his phone, I handed Kristen a small bag. "Some comfort food. Didn't expect you to go cold turkey." We just smiled a little awkwardly at one another, and when Tom said, "We're on." I leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Be safe, and don't worry. Promise?"

She squeezed my arm and hurried after Tom.

I followed to the door and outside as they ran down the drive to my car, looking like fugitives. Playing my role I pretended to look furtively about for the bad guys. Tom backed out and with a squeal of tires, took off down the street. That's city property, Passmore, I mentally chided him.

I returned to the house, shut out the porch light, and a moment later, caught sight of the watcher's car streak down the road in the same direction.

Word count to this point - 13,727